


The Prince of Carno Dair

by Talisio_Writes



Category: The Prince of Carno Dair
Genre: Dark, Fantasy, Gritty, Magic, Multi, Mystery, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Science Fiction, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29406489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talisio_Writes/pseuds/Talisio_Writes
Summary: Over two hundred years, the history behind a revolution turned to legend. Humankind moved forwards whilst the damage already wrecked, festered out of sight; choosing to make itself known at the foot of the Great Mountains of the West, when it had almost been forgotten.Now, the greatest act of courage may be stepping into the darkness with old enemies in an effort to forge a future.
Kudos: 1





	The Prince of Carno Dair

Faolan Tane pulled on his boots and checked (for the third time) the sword that was strapped around his waist. In the cold evening shadows of his room, he had lit an oil lamp on the table that butted up against one wall. Orange light flickered behind the glass dome. 

Faolan was the youngest soldier amongst the Vorian – soldiers handpicked by Lothlan Drask, lord of the great city of Carno Dair. He was only nineteen but the dark blonde hair that sat just above his shoulders made him look older.

Tonight was the opening night of the Winterpass festival and by all rights, Faolan should have been preparing to parade through the streets of Carno Dair with the rest of the Vorian and join the merriment.   
Instead, he was preparing to meet with the Lothlan.  
He quickly finished buttoning his dark blue surcoat and re-read the letter that he had left unfolded on his bed. The slanted words had been hastily scrawled across the yellow parchment. 

Faolan, meet me at the citadel. Lothlan has summoned us, come armed. 

Nivalis.

Faolan crumpled the letter up and stuffed it into his pocket, then dousing the lamp he hurried downstairs, feeling his way in the darkness with a trembling arm. 

A gentle breeze carrying the coldest chills that year whistled through the streets tugging at his clothes and hair.   
Feint glows of orange issued behind the curtained lattice windows of the dark, high sided street. Despite the cold, sweat was beading his forehead and his palms were slick. He whispered a curse as he fumbled for the key and locked the door behind him.   
At this particular moment in time, he was not altogether sure which was a worse prospect; parading with the Vorian or being summoned in such a manner.

Faolan was so lost in his thoughts that he forgot Qoro was waiting for him.   
“Ready to earn your keep?” the other asked. "Did your note say the same then?"  
"Not particularly. Yeah, the same as yours. Nivalis really didn’t mention what this was about?” The haunting sound of wooden windchimes echoed nearby.   
"None." said Qoro, “just that I was to deliver the notes. I figured as you were the last I would walk with you.”   
Qoro Gellise was a few years older than Faolan, athletic, with short dark hair and light mahogany skin inherited from his mother, unlike the pale complexions of most Northern or mountain folk. His ear glistened with gold rings of various shapes and sizes and the chain of a pendant hung around his neck.   
"Maybe your father will know more-”   
“If he does I won’t know it before you.”

Thin grey clouds like veils of silk slid across the black sky above them and a fresh layer of frost glistened on the road.  
Brightly coloured streamers and banners hung across every street fluttering in the breeze, with people even hanging decorations from their windows and on their doors, neighbours clearly trying to outdo each other's efforts.  
“Sorry,” Faolan muttered.   
“You’re no less Vorian than me, or any of us Faolan.”  
“Do you honestly believe that Qoro? If my father wasn’t Lothlan’s friend, would I really be in the guard?”  
“Lothlan did not insist you be sworn in because of your parents. You know him, he sees into people, sees what they are capable of.”  
A tight grip clapped down on Faolan’s shoulder. “We are as one.”   
“We are as one,” Faolan repeated, resolved. 

The dark city of Carno Dair was aglow with orange lights amidst it's winding, sloping streets and towering roofs. Shadows crept out from overhanging archways and balconies. Along her three outer walls, soldiers patrolled, torches seemingly gliding through the air like fireflies, light glinting off their polished armour.   
Night birds swooped over high above, dancing between the spires and turrets and calling out as they swooped downward.   
To everyone else in the city, all was as normal. 

"Evening," said Qoro as they jogged up the wide flagon steps to the citadel. The tall, jagged stonework twisted up high above them jutting out in all directions. The guards stationed on either side of the studded double doors lowered their spears and with a shuffle of armour swung them open, grunting sleepily as they passed. Faolan couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as he passed; but he thought back to Qoro’s words. 

The entrance hall of the citadel was a high ceilinged room with elaborately carved walls depicting the history of Draenor. All around them lights flickered in tiny alcoves and from two iron chandeliers that dangled overhead, suspended on thick chains.   
A glass cabinet with a polished Rosewood frame was mounted on one side of the room, inside which was a map of Draenor and all the known lands beyond. The parchment had paled over the years and many of the black ink markings had faded to grey, while others that had been added or altered more recently still looked black. 

"Faolan, Qoro," Lothlan's head popped up suddenly from a huddle of dark uniforms in the midst of the room, bringing a quick silence over the mumbling voices.  
There was a ripple of acknowledgements as the two newcomers joined.   
Lothlan Drask was a big man, tall and muscular with a face that never seemed to age behind the rough dark wire of beard; the sort of man who normally inspired people just by walking into a room. 

Faolan started, noticing the deep bags under Raidel’s eyes as he blinked. His eyes looked to have sunken back into his head and his skin had greyed. Sleep was apparently not a commodity his father had been afforded in the two days since Faolan had last seen him.

"I'm sorry for calling you all here, I'm sure you'd rather be at the festival," said Lothlan. “There have been some unusual sightings in the Outlands.  
"Strange ships following the coast, sails appearing in the dead of night and drifting landwards bearing symbols and crests we don’t recognise. Last night, lights were seen above Ardale."  
"What kind of light? It sounded like Brundir who had spoken.  
"Unnatural lights," said Lothlan. "Death lights."  
Everyone had been silent and listening attentively, but now the silence seemed to turn colder. Faolan’s skin prickled. That explained why Lothlan and Raidel looked so Gaunt. 

That could only mean one thing, Witchcraft. But there was always trouble in the Outlands, always talk. There had been since the Great Revolt; that was why soldiers regularly patrolled the roads. A show of force, a reassurance for the people of Draenor. No tolerance.  
Faolan had heard the Vorian talk about Death Lights. Bright lights that lit up the whole sky for miles around. Powerful spells. Dark magic. Things that even the hardest soldiers shuddered to think of. The reason that the Vorian, and not ordinary soldiers had been summoned.   
"If this is true," said Nivalis Pespi breaking the silence, "Are we to assume that the covens are no longer in hiding?"

There were two unusual things about Nivalis, the first of these being the Vorian Captain was a woman, the second being her long, dark blue hair; a stark contrast to her pale, freckled skin.

"Let us only worry about what we know, that is bad enough for now,” said Raidel. "Ardale hardly seems a likely meeting place for witches.” He was right, after all the small village was a hub for woodsmen and tailors, farmers and country folk that kept themselves much to themselves. “We need to see what has happened for ourselves. Our priority needs to be assessing the situation and helping, if we can.  
“There's a good chance that any survivors will have fled into the woods, so I want you to circle round from the South. If," he said distastefully, "The covents are behind this, it must not become common knowledge. They will use the chaos to their advantage and turn good people against their own."  
Nivalis nodded slowly.  
"I don't like sending any of you up against a single witch." he said. "Your lives come first out there and that's the end of the matter. I want to see you all back here, if that means running then so be it."  
"We will be fine," said Nivalis with a cold authority, bowing her head slightly.   
"Make sure that you are," said Lothlan. "Guides of Hraenar be with you." 

Nivalis turned on her heel and marched out the way they had come. Without the need for words every other soldier fell into a perfect step behind her. The citadel doors swung open again and cold night air washed over them.   
For the second time that night, a tight grip fell onto Faolan’s shoulder, stopping him from following.   
Raidel turned him around and pulled him tight into his arms.  
He took his son's head between his palms and met his gaze.   
"Take care out there," he said, his eyes narrowing. "I know you want to prove yourself, I understand. But don't make me regret sending you."  
The words echoed around inside his head as he hurried to catch up with the others.

It was only a short walk to the stables, which at this time of night were deserted. Nivalis pulled a key from her pocket, and the stable doors creaked open.

Horses stirred as they entered, padding the damp straw inside their stalls. The air smelt of manure and wet hair. Faolan made his way over to one of the stalls at the far end of the barn, recoiling as a muzzle appeared from the darkness in front of him.   
"Easy," he said as much to himself as the wide-eyed horse. He opened the door to the stall slightly and slid through sideways. The big grey horse snorted loudly as Faolan slid the halter up it's nose and began tackling it up. It took him several efforts to get the girth set right.

"Stay close to me and Niv," said a whisper. Faolan gazed up in silence, still holding the strap he had been adjusting on the saddle. Elphas was standing outside the stall attending his own mount. He was the oldest member of the Vorian, with salt and pepper hair that was more white than grey and a long hooked nose that had been broken at least twice.  
Faolan nodded silently; his mouth was suddenly too dry to talk.   
"Nervous?" asked Elphas quite calmly, reaching down and adjusting the final strap for Faolan. Even in the darkness Faolan could make out the scar that ran up the soldier's neck and across his cheek, the deep wound never having vanished completely.   
Words would not come, so Faolan nodded as he took the reins.  
"Nerves are good. Nerves keep you on edge, being on edge keeps you alive," said Elphas, fussing his horse.   
"I'll try and remember that," said Faolan, stepping back, his eyes scanning the dark figure of the horse as he made sure everything was right. 

"Does this sit well with you Niv?" a voice asked as Faolan and Elphas took their reins and led the horses outside.   
"Not one bit," she said leading her own horse away. "So keep sharp and keep quiet."  
Every moment that night seemed to last an eternity. It seemed like hours that the riders spent gathering their horses outside. Nivalis relocked the door and once again took the lead of the small column. 

The hooves clopped loudly against the cobbles, the sound amplified by the buildings on either side, which seemed to lean over them and block out the night sky. Misty snorts rose from the muzzles as the three horse wide column wound its way through the city.  
Eyes peered out through ajar doors and curtains moved as they passed, whispers filling the emptiness behind them.   
They passed beneath the third gatehouse. "Remember," Nivalis called back, “We run if we need to.” 

Huge marquees stood proud on the heathland outside Carno Dair. Banners whipped angrily against the chill wind whilst below, catering staff dressed in white aprons hurried back and forth, setting the tables inside the marquees ready for the festivities. Huge wooden kegs of liquor were stacked up behind the kitchen tent, from which all manner of smells drifted out; slow cooked meats, ale and wine, fresh bread, fish! 

Foods, drinks and other delicacies that, like the cooks, had been sourced from all over Draenor, some of these even having come from across the ocean. No expense was spared to celebrate the Winterpass – the tradition stretched back long before the Great Revolt, back into the Shadow Ages even. Indeed, some people still believed if they did not celebrate the Winterpass that the seasons would not begin anew, and a cold like nobody had felt before would descend across all of Draenor, slowly killing off everything. To Faolan this was little more than an old woman’s tale, but he welcomed the distraction of smells to take his mind away from the task at hand.

The road turned to soil and tracked path in the grassy highland, winding amongst the huge tents. The wind slapped ferociously against the taught canvas, which barked back in anger. 

The dark mass of stone and tips of the marquees began to disappear behind them; their horses surged into a trot and scrubland unfolded around them.  
Exposed as they were, the wind renewed it’s attacks; cloaks and hair billowed out behind the riders. 

The road wound on into the distance, vanishing behind one rise of the land and reappearing beyond another. The landscape all around them was formed of silhouettes, distinguishable only thanks to the bright night time sky. The moon dulled and brightened time and again, as thin clouds drifted across the ink like sky which was dotted with countless flakes of silver.   
Birds sang and owls hooted in the darkness. Foxes called as they hunted and an ensemble of other noises came to their ears, the music of the night. 

Faolan's heart was pounding inside his chest as Nivalis finally led them to a stop, a long way from home and after so much riding that his backside ached. H was half glad to escape the saddle and stretched, taking in the surroundings. They were stopped on the edge of a copse, which if he was correct, meant they were just South of Ardale.

The horses were quickly fastened to the trees as one by one every rider landed with a dull thump.   
"Arms up," whispered Nivalis, dropping into a crouch. "Spread out and keep your eyes wide,” and with that, she slunk forwards into the treeline, practically vanishing amidst the thick boughs and undergrowth. 

Swords were drawn with a gentle hiss of steel against the russell of trees and shields pulled into position.  
"Remember," said Elphas, guiding Faolan into the woods. "Stay close to me and Niv."   
"You’ll do fine," said Qoro slapping Faolan's shoulder enthusiastically before vanishing.

The careful placement of feet as the soldiers stalked through the woods made for slow progress, but the reward was near silence except for the movement of branches. Each step came with a quiet threat of discovery from the trees, threatening to betray them all to anyone who might be waiting.

Faolan did not see the signal that had been made, but knew there must have been one, for in front of him every figure stopped dead. 

The long moment gave Faolan time to realise he was no longer certain which of the figures was Elphas. Sweat beaded his forehead as he scanned around, desperate to keep the other in his sights. At that moment, one of the soldiers crept forward and as he did so, the moonlight betrayed Elphas’ grey hair. Half unsure whether to wait or not, Faolan remembered the advice he had been given and crept forward, coming to a stop beside Elphas and Nivalis.  
"Ready?" Elphas had whispered. Faolan edged around slightly and could see what, or rather who, had caused the disruption. The splayed figure, face down in the mud made no movement as Elphas rolled him over, whilst Nivalis sword poised ready in case of a trap. 

Glaring up at the night sky, dead eyes wide was a boy, covered in blood, mud and filth where he had evidently tripped before meeting his fate. His eyes were still wide with fear, his mouth was open and twisted, and for a second, Faolan thought he heard the dying scream. He had not reached manhood. “What killed him?”   
“There are no marks, the blood is where he fell,” was the only reply Elphas gave before the slog through the copse began again. 

More bodies lined the route, none of them having apparently crawled after whatever had struck them down. Eighteen dead in all, men women and children killed without discrimination.  
Faolan’s mouth was dry, his insides ached from the tension and the realisation came to him that Faolan was about to witness death, delivered, for the first time. 

The woods began to thin and as this happened small risings of damp smoke could be seen nearby the first structures of Ardale.  
The wood houses had been built without much consideration for their location, just erected wherever there was a suitable piece of land and a road tracked out thereafter, leaving a village square in the centre, although given the small population it was likely more for show than practicality. The roofs had caved in, having been burnt away and it was these small remnants that continued to smoulder.

"Close in," said Nivalis. "Keep cover and watch your backs." With no cover between them she took the lead and sprinted to close the gap, coming to a stop tucked into the shadow of the closest house. She ducked around to the side, and Faolan followed her closely, comforted by the sense that Elphas was right behind him.

Stones that had likely been set for decoration in a garden were scattered, propelled by some invisible force and coming to rest in an untidy mess. There were a handful more bodies in the square.   
A thick smell hung in the air; Faolan struggled to remember it but could best relate it to pipe smoke, the rich smell of tobacco mixed with a fruit like tone.

"Wytchcraft," Brundir was somewhere nearby and his whisper answered Faolan's short sniff. "So much for survivors."   
A bird squawked down the street, probably hungry. Faolan jumped and Elphas gripped his shoulder tightly from behind. “We’ve got you,” and the solid command to calm down brought a small level of reassurance to Faolan, who now felt the discomfort of sweat tracing his skin.  
A weathervane screeched on its perch as it turned.

"What's the plan Niv?" Vehgermosa Daqon slunk past Faolan. Vehger was a muscled man with a deep gravelly voice and dark skin. A gold hoop hung from one nostril of the nose that looked like it had been squashed onto his face; his round eyes were wide and alert. The sword and shield he carried looked like toys against his muscled physique.   
Nivalis took a moment to answer as she peered round the back of the house. "Check the houses, see what we find. Stay out of the square. I doubt there is anyone here left to help; let’s get back before we are missed.”

The soldiers broke from their cover, spreading out from cover to cover and disappearing behind and inside of the other houses, half jogging to keep their footfalls quiet.   
Faolan stayed close on Nivalis' heels, moving when she did, stopping when she did. Elphas was on his right and a little behind; the old soldier never straying far from him. 

They came to a halt against a low stone wall, there were several others beside them but Faolan could not be certain who they were. and saw the source of the smoke. Orange red tongues were lashing out from the dying embers of what had been a great pyre, grabbing for the sky and quickly falling back before trying again. Opposite them, a pair of cottages faced away and over the fields. Faolan risked a glance at the windows, but the dark concealed anything beyond them. 

"Slow," Nivalis levered herself over the wall they were crouching behind and slipped between the two cottages. She led the way through the narrow space, the orange flickers of the fire not able to cast their light more than a few feet up the alleyway.

At the head of the alleyway was another street, with a single small building on the each of two fields. There were at least two more bodies that Faolan could see, but he kept his eyes up. The small building seemed to let out a hiss, and afterward there came a loud pop and flames erupted throughout the building. In a matter of seconds, the whole house was on fire.   
Faolan noticed that the bodies were not laying flat, but were instead half sunk into a small crater that had formed in the street.

"What the hell?" hissed Vehger somewhere behind them.   
“Shh,” Nivalis hissed, but it didn’t matter because her voice was barely heard above the roar of fire. 

Flames and embers crackled and spat as they ate up the house, thick plumes of smoke now bellowing towards the sky. 

Faolan was hardly breathing as he hunched there, tortured by the silent waiting. The whole street and alleyway was lit up as the flames roared ever higher.   
She peered out around the corner with the slowest of movements, then ducked her head back, pivoted on her heel and concluded it was time to leave; “back,” she hissed urging them to return the way they had come.

At the same time as she did this and as everyone had started to turn, someone shouted the word “stop,” but nobody quite had time to realise what this was about. 

The figure at the now front of the column, would not get to finish what he had started to say. A shrill voice broke the air over his, and it sounded like "RENARENGA!"

A large chunk of cottage wall vanished with an almighty roar, spewing dust and fist sized lumps of stone in all directions. The world vanished from beneath Faolan's feet, his arms flailed as he felt himself flying through the air; his lungs were emptied and his insides burned for air. He felt himself collide with something solid and then everything stopped moving and through a thick cough, he was able to breathe a desperate, shallow breath.

His side was warm and sore, where blood had been drawn. People were scrambling to their feet all around, covered in rubble dust and masonry debris. The heat from the blazing house stung his eyes and half blinded him through tears.

The sound of the explosion was still ringing in his ear. Everything else around him was muffled to an unintelligible garble of sounds. A figure was standing in what had seconds ago been the alleyway, his skin illuminated by a strange object which he moved in a pattern. Soundless words were being formed by thin lips, tongue flicking out like a serpent's.  
The stranger’s clothes were showered in the dark blood of his victims..

Faolan tried to stand, but had only got to his knees when both of his arms were grabbed from behind him and his whole body lifted off the ground, legs flailing in front of him as a jet of light arched over the street and crashed into the ground where he had lay only a second ago. Filth rained down on him.  
"Faolan! Faolan, get up! GET UP! GO!"   
The ringing sound died away just enough for Faolan to hear the urgent cries, as the hands that had saved him dragged him to his feet.   
"FAOLAN, MOVE!"   
Vehger was screaming at him, and still the words only just sounded above the dull cloud of noise that stifled Faolan’s mind. He turned around and began to run, stumbling like a drunkard but kept on his feet by Vehger who refused to overtake him. Faolan risked a glance round and regretted it, the witch was swirling the object high in the air once more and the glow had become brighter still.

There was a whoosh of air. Faolan's back suddenly felt like it was on fire, then he was being dragged sideways by Vehgers solid grip; pushed on again and steered left between two more houses. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something blue and oddly firelike shoot up the street where they had been running. 

"Keep running!"  
Faolan charged forwards, trying to focus his senses as he staggered onwards into a large open field, feet sinking in the freshly ploughed soil.  
There was a thud from behind and Faolan’s body shook with terror as he forced himself around, knowing Vehger had fallen before seeing him. The other was struggling against the wet mud, waving Faolan away, screaming at him to run. 

The bright light of the object preceded the witch. His arm was outstretched as he emerged at the edge of the field. "Arasynth!"   
Another jet of the bright blue flame roared into life and tore across the field.   
Faolan ran forwards as quickly as he could against the mud, ducking his head under the rushing flames. Intense heat burned the hairs on the back of his neck, scolding the flesh.  
He forced back a scream of pain and charged forwards, dodging around Vehger who had just got to his feet and tried to tackle Faolan down.  
Faolan dodged the grab, brought his sword up ready to strike, barely eight paces away from the witch.   
"Arasynth!" the manic scream repeated.   
More blue fire hurtled towards him. This close Faolan didn't have time to dodge; his shield was already up and in the path of the spell. 

The blue jet of fire and Faolan collided with only a piece of metal between them.   
Faolan staggered and would have been thrown off his feet had he not braced himself, ducking into the attack just before it hit. It was like having a gale pound against him, only hundreds of times stronger and so hot his whole body stung from the blue fire and the most intense pain he had ever experienced burned across his whole body.  
His feet skidded back a pace, soft mud piling up around them. The fire caught Faolan's shield-arm in a heartbeat, the blue inferno swelling and covering his entire limb, consuming skin and clothes in seconds. 

The single thought of his friend’s life outweighed the pain for just enough time to close the gap.  
"Arasy-" the voice didn't get to finish it's spell this time. The object began to glow but Faolan brought his blade down with all the strength he could muster, dragging it through the soft fabric then flesh. The sound changed to a gurgle and blood spat from the lips.  
The witches eyes rolled wide, he recoiled as fresh blood soaked his tunic. Faolan had already levelled his sword again. He thrust with every bit of strength left in his burning body and drove the blade close enough to the heart, twisted it and dragged it back out.

"NIVALIS, ANYONE, HELP!" The scream was Vehger's as he tackled Faolan to the ground, rolling on top of him, flapping his own clothing and arms and anything he could grab against Faolan's burning flesh.   
The blue fire that had consumed half of Faolan's torso by this point flickered and died away leaving smoking cloth and flesh exposed to the night air. But still Vehger rolled him until he was sure the fire was out, still screaming.   
Faolan had never heard anyone scream like that before, especially not the big brutish figure of Vehgermosa Daqon. The sound would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

His blood was burning, not just skin but every part of his body was in the most terrible agony. The screams that came as tears streaked his face were a distant sound, and felt very much not his own.   
"HELP!" Vehger roared again. "HELP US!"


End file.
